For the first six years in my home, I chased lizards across walls then out an opened door, only to realize that they returned; still I persisted. That they ate insects didn’t excuse their droppings. Then last year I gave in.
On this Monday night, as I looked with curiosity at the lizard, it appeared to be looking back at me. Not understanding, but aware of an unusual exchange, I ended my work then turned out the light. Upon arising on Tuesday morning, I went to look in the sink. The lizard was still there. My inner voice (responding to a thought) said not to put any water in. Throughout the day I returned to the sink to find the lizard had changed positions but seemed to be basically remaining still. By Tuesday afternoon I said aloud, “Is someone working through you?” Yes—the answer came through my inner voice. On a much earlier occasion, I had been told that a person was working through my dog. At that time, I had fully understood only after the person’s assignment was completed, and my dog had become a dog again—an unambiguous change.
From Wednesday through Saturday, I regularly visited the lizard, feeling drawn into communion as information was unveiled. The source of the voice that I was listening to pointed out something that I already knew, which added to its authenticity. His was the gruff voice that I had recently heard. At the time I had immediately recognized an unfamiliar tonal quality that was male. This voice was smooth though; I forewent understanding and listened, becoming entranced. The voice explained that he had been a husband who deeply loved me in a past life, a love that I had returned. I had needed to reach a certain point in my present life before he could come as a messenger.* He spoke of my making a crossing that was dangerous, and he was there to ensure that I made it safely (to the other side I guessed). At that time he would leave. In my jotted notes I later found further words, “I am here to water the seed of truth within you … an eternal being, a messenger of love.”
Each day as we silently gazed at one another, I realized that I didn’t know if our steady absorption in each other was of the present, or if past memories were being transmitted. I felt a deep well of knowing. In a one-time of perfect moments, standing as close as I dared and motionless, the lizard’s body was positioned so that its head directly faced mine. My awareness, and seemingly that of the messenger’s, were solely of our eyes penetrating beyond the known.
On Sunday morning, I found the lizard lying partially behind the faucet on the sink’s granite ledge. Alert to there being a departure plan, I felt a twinge of sadness. Was it over—this uniqueness? A while later the ledge was empty, but from an upward glance I saw the lizard clinging to the side of the mirror. Still later, there was no longer a lizard clinging to the edge. But as my gaze went higher, I could see the lizard’s reflection in the mirror; it was on top of a cabinet, hidden from my view. It was then I sensed that I was being caringly disengaged. By 11:45 the lizard (and my messenger of love) had vanished.
Soon going to my car to put items in, I banged my head hard against the roof edge above the open door, and tears fell. It was an old behavior that reappeared from time to time. When I wouldn’t allow myself to cry, I would, unconsciously, be guided to bang some part of my body. A confirmation of the ending arrived the next morning. At my computer, I noticed a lizard on the far end of the counter. As soon as it saw my glance, it skittered away.
On the following Thursday, I heard the same gruff inner voice say that he had been the messenger; once more I refrained from questioning. Then, in a voice that I am accustomed to, I now heard what mattered most—that in my spiritual practice, I would continue making this crossing that matched my life in flux, but known (and protected) from a realm beyond, I had moved beyond what could have impeded my journey.
My realization is better said in these quotes of different authorship:
Truth is stranger than fiction, but it is because Fiction is obliged to stick to possibilities; Truth isn't.” ~ Mark Twain.*
“To understand the infinite, eternal Reality is not the GOAL of individualized beings in the Illusion of Creation, because the Reality can never be understood; it is to be realized by conscious experience.” ~ Meher Baba *
* It is known that Meher Baba, the God-Man, in body and now in spirit, has agents who work for Him. This could be an explanation for the messenger.
* In 1997, David Cousins, my spiritual teacher guiding me to Meher Baba, told me of a dangerous river crossing where there were piranha, but guides upstream and downstream would keep it safe.
*Mark Twain, Following the Equator: A Journey Around the World (Hartford, CT: American Publishing Co., 1897). http://www.goodreads.com/quotes/4650-truth-is-stranger-than-fiction-but-it-is-because-fiction.
* Meher Baba, God Speaks (Oakland, CA: Sufism Reoriented, Inc., 1955, 1973).